


Watson's claim

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Sherlock, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, For mimamia, John claiming Sherlocks tight little ass, Light Dom/sub, M/M, No preperation, Possessive Behavior, Possessive John, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sherlock likes to be held down, What Was I Thinking?, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock and John come back from a case, John let's his possessiveness flow. Sherlock safewords out of it, but for other reasons than you would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's claim

**Author's Note:**

> With dedication to Mimamia - I'm so sorry you had to wait that long for it. I was a little lost in my mind for the past 6 months. Not really able to write. Now I'm back. I hope it will be delicious, just as you wanted. It kind of.... got a life on its own :)

Sherlock's mind whirled. They were on the cab-ride back to Baker Street from their last crime scene. The case was long and exhausting, leaving them running across half of London until they finally pinned the suspect, with help of Lestrade of course. The detective could still feel the adrenaline, mixing with an enormous dose of self-satisfaction at how clever he had been with his little plan to use himself as a bait in the club they finally found the suspect in.   
  
He looked to his right, expecting to find John in much the same state, or at least showing any signs of awe over his genius, but the older man was silently staring out of the window, head turned to the side. Sherlock frowned.   
  
Even though his doctor was silent, he could feel a stupid amount of energy vibrating out of him. It made Sherlock shiver unpleasantly. He shifted in his seat and waited for the shoe to drop.   
  
Soon enough, the cab pulled in front of 221B and Sherlock was left in the cab by John swiftly getting out and going straight to the door. The detective paid the fare and climbed out, following John's silhouette disappearing in their doorway.   
  
“John?” He asked as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. He looked around but the doctor was nowhere to be seen. He made to turn around and go back to the living room when a pair of strong hands gripped him at the waist.   
“You fucking tease” John growled behind him and started to walk forward, making Sherlock take a few steps, stopping their movement when the detective's hips hit the kitchen table.   
  
“Hmpf” was all Sherlock could manage when his face made a hard and quite unexpected contact with the surface of the table. He tried to lever himself up from it but two strong hands belonging to a certain army doctor pinned him down efficiently.   
  
“What the fucking hell were you thinking?” John hissed into his ear, leaning over the detective's back. His hands left Sherlock's hips and started unbuttoning the coat, yanking it from the lithe figure of the dark haired man. Sherlock grumbled out something but it was too low for John to hear.   
“Seriously Sherlock. What. Were. You. Thinking?” He punctuated each word with a hard tug on Sherlock's shirt, making the buttons pop off it and enabling him to take it down as well.   
  
“John.... what are you talking about?” He finally managed to pant out. The doctor just growled, lifting his body off of the detective long enough to yank his trousers and pants down as well. When Sherlock stepped out of them – he had to really, John started to pull at them hard enough to make him loose his balance – the doctor pinned him to the table again, leaning over him with his body.   
  
The detective shivered, all the hair on his skin standing, when he felt John's strong arms encircling him, roaming over his chest. Sherlock loved John's hands, they were always so strong and sure. People always assumed Sherlock had big hands, but really, it was just the length of his fingers that was outstanding. When compared to his soldier's palms, his own were just spindly and fragile.   
  
Sherlock shivered again when those perfect palms traveled upwards, from his navel up, over his heart where they paused briefly, before continuing higher to settle on the only item of clothing he was still wearing, his scarf.   
  
The doctor unwrapped it from around Sherlock's neck and brought it behind his back, along with both of Sherlock's hands. Before the detective could react, he was tied up, half-lying on the table and completely naked. He craned his head back, looking at John with wide eyes.   
“John?” He asked carefully. The look he got in return made him swallow hard.   
  
“You have no idea what you've done, do you?” The doctor asked back making the younger man frown. He shook his head, and started to struggle, trying the bonds. He gave up after a moment, seeing no point. If John wanted him here like this, tied up and naked, he wouldn't be going anywhere. John made sure of that.   
  
“Tonight. With all those strangers...” the doctor placed his hands on Sherlock's back again and the detective arched into the contact. “All those _people_ ” John almost spat the word, “all of them.... looking at you when you were dancing in that fucking club... They were eating you with their eyes....”   
  
Sherlock moaned when John's lips closed over his earlobe. He could feel the very tip of John's tongue making a path over the sensitive shell and his hips bucked on their own volition. John pressed further into him, hips digging into Sherlock's backside.   
  
“The way you moved.... Christ” the doctor hissed, grinding his clothed erection into the swell of Sherlock's ass. “God Sherlock....” the weight on his back disappeared suddenly and the detective shifted, loss of warm and John's strong, broad chest pushing him down leaving him feeling vulnerable. Before he had a chance to speak, however, the same sure hands that had been manhandling him a minute ago were now on his ass. Two spots of warm, encompassing the cheeks almost fully making him arch back again, pushing his flesh into the sensation.   
  
“You should have seen their faces, Sherlock.... they were ogling your ass as if it belonged to them” he massaged the lush behind with firm squeezes and minute strokes. Sherlock moaned, his body melting on the table. He heard clothes rustle behind him and had only a moment to brace himself, before a wet heat traveled up the crease of his ass.   
  
“But they will never have this” John huffed into the soft skin, pulling the two cheeks apart. “You are mine” he licked again, tongue tickling at first, then pressing into the flesh.   
  
Sherlock jolted, moaning out John's name. He could feel his cheeks burning, blush creeping high on his face and low on his chest. He was breathing hard and his skin felt funny.   
“John...” he groaned again, struggling just a little. The doctor didn't stop for even a moment. His tongue made different patterns between Sherlock's ass-cheeks, sometimes moving further down to lick at his perineum, sometimes high up to nibble and suck at his tail-bone. It was obscene, with the wet noises and the stubble grazing at his most sensitive parts of skin.   
  
“Oh god...” Sherlock panted, eyes closing.  
  
The doctor didn't seem do get enough, though, and after a long time of passing the little pink pucker between the two perfect mounds, he finally dipped his tongue inside. Just the tip at first, making Sherlock stop any struggling, then diving deeper, pushing as much of his little wet tongue inside as he could. That tore a loud whine from Sherlock, his whole body arching back, muscles shifting underneath the pale skin. John did it again, and again, fucking Sherlock with his tongue, sucking and nibbling at the rim whenever he had a chance.   
  
“John... fuck... please” the detective practically whined, his body squirming under his soldier's ministrations.  
  
When John came up for air, his nose was filled with Sherlock. That unique scent of his detective, dosed heavily with the smell of sex and passion. He looked up and licked one more time, before standing up and leaning over the detective again.   
  
The younger man was trembling, panting heavily. His eyes were closed and mouth opened, and for John there was no sight more beautiful than that. He ran his hands up Sherlock's sides, skimming his fingers over the delicate bones and lean muscles.   
  
Sherlock was skinny, but not overtly so. In comparison with John's broad shoulders and strong arms, however, he looked like a porcelain doll – small, lean, and touchingly fragile. The doctor twisted a little, placing a kiss on one pale shoulder, nibbling the skin and soothing it with tender licks of his tongue, until Sherlock opened his eyes.   
  
“John” he whispered, closing them again and attempting to push his ass in the air. The doctor took the invitation for what it was, and fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers and pants. The unmistakable sound of the zipper being pulled down made the man before him shiver again. John licked his lips and gave himself a few strokes. He would be content to just wank off like this, taking in the sight of fully debauched and helpless detective.   
  
“Please....” the whispered plea brought John back to reality and his previous plan. He looked down, brought two fingers to Sherlock's tender and still wet opening and pushed them inside carefully. The detective hissed and bucked back, impaling himself further.   
  
And that was exactly when John snapped. He yanked his fingers out of Sherlock's hole, lined himself up and carefully but insistently pushed in. The detective whined and stilled, hands clenching at his backside at the intrusion. He was sufficiently opened and slicked, they'd done it completely dry a few times and it still was glorious. What made his mind wander off to dangerous territories now was not the penetration alone, because the sensations were wonderful. He could feel every inch of John sliding in, friction burning but on just the right side of pleasure/pain.   
  
No, what made his mind stop and take a 180 degree turn to the dark side was the lack of John's strong hands holding him firmly, encompassing him. He needed the tight embrace, he needed to feel his strong, still fully clothed soldier hide him from the world inside his arms, shielding his lithe body from everything that was out there.   
  
John grunted, burying the last inch of his cock inside the tight heat of Sherlock's body. He stilled his hips, biting his lip to stop himself from moving, giving his lover time to adjust. It must have been a bit harsh even for Sherlock, because the detective was tense and still.   
  
“John” he whispered at last, trying to twist his head to the side, looking at him with wide eyes. In that moment John knew he miscalculated a little. The vulnerable look on Sherlock's face and the wide-eyed stare worked like a cold shower on his passion driven mind. He pushed himself up on his arms and bent down, trying to look at the detective properly without moving too much. He could feel the squeeze of Sherlock's muscles around him, gripping him like a vice, and he knew he should be more relaxed by now, he should not be so tense by now.   
  
He brought one hand to cup Sherlock's face gently, running his thumb over one pale cheekbone.   
“Sherlock?” He asked, voice soft. “Give me the color...”   
The detective closed his eyes and inhaled shakily. He was silent for a moment and John could see the internal battle.   
“Love, it's alright...” he soothed gently, his thumb never ceasing it's delicate caress. “Give me the color, Sherlock.”   
“Yellow” the detective almost whispered, eyes still closed.   
  
John kissed his forehead and started to withdraw slowly, paying attention not to do it too quickly. John knew he miscalculated as soon as he felt Sherlock tense up under him, but he really didn't have a clue of what went wrong. They both liked a bit of rougher sex, and Sherlock certainly wasn't complaining...  
  


The doctor withdrew completely and untied Sherlock's hands, massaging them gently to help the blood flow. When the younger man finally straightened and turned around John tugged him in for a slow, sweet kiss. One of his hands traveled to Sherlock's cock and gripped it lightly, moving at a slow pace, bringing it back to full hardness. He could feel Sherlock's hips moving a bit in time with his hand's rhythm.   
  
“John...” Sherlock sighed when they parted for breath and quickly hid his face in the doctor's neck.   
“Shh... I've got you” he soothed him, bringing one arm around his waist to hug Sherlock tightly. Sherlock started to lick and nibble at his neck, soft lips in a stark contrast to sharp teeth making John shudder.   
“Tell me, Sherlock” he prompted gently, not ceasing the movement of his hand.   
  
The detective took a deep breath and broke their embrace, took hold of John's hand and led him to their bedroom. Once they stepped inside, Sherlock lied down on his back on the bed, legs spread and his lustful gaze directed at John.   
  


The doctor's breath hitched and he scrambled on top of him, installing himself between those long, pale thighs. He lowered his head and kissed Sherlock deeply, devouring his mouth and drawing all sorts of low animal noises out of the detective.   
  
“You sure? That didn't go well” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, even if he couldn't help rolling his hips a bit, providing a delicious friction for the both of them. Sherlock only nodded his approval and spread his legs wider in a silent invitation.   
“That was... I... You.. I need...” the detective stuttered for a moment in his explanation. He closed his eyes, swallowed and opened them again looking at John to somehow magically read his mind.   
  
“Hey, calm down... tell me. Just... tell me” John kissed him again, slowly and lovingly, all tongue and lips. He shifted one of his hands between them and, getting a good grip of both of them, stroked slowly. Sherlock arched off the bed for a second, then folded in on himself, his arms going around John and holding on to him as his mouth traveled to the doctor's ear.   
  
“Hold me down” he moaned before he let himself fall down on bed again, looking at John and hungrily licking his lips. The doctor moaned as he finally understood.   
  
So that's what Sherlock wanted. He wanted to be held down. Something ignited inside John's chest, something primal and forgotten when Sherlock safeworded earlier. He replayed the whole scene in his mind once again. He took Sherlock, roughly, and there was no complain until he stopped holding him.   
  
John grinned and with a final “remember your safeword?” he lunged on Sherlock, attacking his mouth hungrily, all teeth and no tongue. The detective moaned and bucked underneath him, loving every part of this wild John that he could see so rarely. He broke the kiss, shifting beneath him, freeing one of his arms to get to the bedside table and the lube they kept there. He didn't really need it, he liked doing semi-dry on occasions, the burning stretch of John's cock forcing its way inside him a great turn on for him. Sherlock knew, though, that if he insisted on not using any lube, John wouldn't be as rough as they both wanted it, so he was prepared for this small sacrifice.   
  
Before he could even touch the bottle, however, his hand had been gripped tightly and brought above his head.   
“Oh no no no, love, you asked for it, remember?” John grinned at him evilly and turned him around. The detective landed on his belly with a grunt and pushed his ass up in the air trying to wordlessly convey what he wanted. From a corner of his eye he could see john snatching the bottle of clear fluid quickly. Sure enough, a moment later he felt the cold gel spreading all over his crack, flowing obscenely down and dripping from his balls.   
  
The sensation of cold and sticky lube on his most private parts made him shiver, and the situation only got more exciting when he heard John's slick hand covering his own cock in it.   
“Please, John...” he rutted into the sheets, hard and turned on beyond reason. He loved all the manhandling, but right now he needed the doctor over him, pressing him down, owning him inside and out.   
  
“Shh” he heard just before the fat head of John's manhood pressed at his opening. He could feel himself tense and tried to relax the muscles... it worked, after a while. John was relentless, pressing in with slow determination.   
  
Sherlock cried out when the head popped in and immediately tried to shift his hips, to move away or to impale himself further, he didn't know. Two strong hands held him steady and he could feel how John pushed inside, inch by inch, slowly, so slowly, until he was fully inside him.   
“Shh... it's okay, shh...” the doctor shushed him gently and only then had Sherlock realized that he was making a constant noise like a wounded animal.   
  
He tried to speak, to move his head a bit, to move in general, but his body was almost locked in one position. He keened when John rolled his hips a little, going even deeper. Then he felt the doctor's hands shift, from his hips up, to his sides, to his arms. One by one, John moved his arms above his head and held them there. The new position let him stretch as much of his body as he could over Sherlock's back. It left Sherlock pressed into the mattress underneath him and god, it was glorious.   
  
To be held down by John. To be held down by his strong arms and wide shoulders. To be impaled on his big cock that started to move again now.   
  
“You like that, don't you, Sherlock?” He asked, voice rough and breathy, brushing over the detective's ear and making him moan.   
“John...”  
“What a tease you were at the pub today... think I forgot?” He snapped his hips roughly relishing in the surprised cry that left Sherlock's lips.   
“Fuck, John!” The detective swore feeling the pleasure coiling at the base of his spine.   
“All those people...” he growled, voice primal. “All of them looking at you, at your ass....” he ground down for emphasis. “You're mine Sherlock, do you hear it? Your plush, delicious ass is mine to ruin” John angled his hips a bit and Sherlock keened when the change in position allowed the doctor to find his prostate on every move he wished.   
  
John started to thrust his hips a bit harder, settling a quicker pace. He made sure to press Sherlock into bed as firmly as he could, making it hard for the detective to move. He could feel Sherlock trying to buck or writhe, he could feel the involuntary jerks of his body every time he brushed over his sweet spot, but he held him firmly.   
  
“Fuck! John! Please!” Sherlock was ecstatic. His whole body was covered by John who was a sweet weight atop of him. Even if he tried to squirm it all was in vain because all he could do was to move his fingers. His cock ached and the constant pressure from the sheets did nothing to help the situation. He whined when John sped up, every thrust hitting him square on.   
  
“God, Sherlock” he heard above him and whined again, a long sound resembling John's name escaping him. The doctor shifted his grip on Sherlock's wrists to one hand and sneaked his other one under Sherlock's belly, gripping his cock and stroking it firmly. Now Sherlock really bucked, strong enough to almost throw him off. But John held on and listened to the delicious moan he evoked when he deliberately brushed over the glans.   
  
“Please... John” the detective rasped, going slowly insane from pleasure. A harsh growl from John and his movements speeding was all the answer he got, before his orgasm took him, tearing through his body like a lightning. Sherlock moaned into the pillow in front of him, howling when John didn't stop his thrusting and continued with a clear intent.   
  
The detective shivered when his body became oversensitive, whining again and clenching his muscles involuntarily.   
“God... fuck” left John's lips and he came with a drawn out moan of Sherlock's name, hips jerking and his whole body spasming.   
  
After a while he collapsed on Sherlock's back, effectively pressing him into bed again. But the detective didn't mind one bit. He just sighed happily and snuggled into the pillows. Yes, he definitely had a thing for John holding him down.


End file.
